I Hold Your Heart Or I Hold You Down
by Miss Meggie
Summary: Julie thinks she's left Jax far behind but three years later She's writing her first non-fiction book and She and Tim are on a break, Jax has just lost Tara. Julie feels undeniably draw back to help Jax at all costs. where will it land them all? Read and find out! **Sequel to You're Only As Lost As You Wanna Be**
1. Chapter 1

**AN: The "Lost" Writing Team is back and we own nothing but the idea please leave us a review ifyou liked it.**

Julie looked at the blank screen on her laptop. The cursor blinked, mocking her inability to string words together. Surrounding her at the old oak table were piles of transcribed interviews and meticulous notes. She'd put in her research time, done her homework. She even had an extensive outline. Her first journalism teacher used to say that after you'd done all that work, the story would practically write itself.

Her mission, which she had already accepted the book advance for, was to write a book about gutterpunks, the modern-day hobo subculture who spent their time panhandling, hopping freight trains, and just plain experiencing life. The idea had come to her when she was covering a trade summit in Seattle and had noticed the gutterpunks on nearly every corner.

She'd gotten friendly with a few who were camped out down the street from her hotel. No mean feat, since she was regarded with distrust, even though she was only a few years older them. But Julie had never met a potential source who couldn't be worn down with coffee, cookies, and honest questions. She found their stories exhilarating and amazing, and she couldn't stop thinking about them after she returned to Texas.

Julie wrote up the book proposal in a week and sent it off to a few agents. She hadn't breathed a word of her idea to anyone, not even Tim. When her phone buzzed with the call from a New York area code, it had felt like fate. Within weeks, she had a signed, sealed, and delivered contract along with a surprisingly hefty advance.

Tim had been... resigned but supportive was probably the best description. His eyes had widened when she showed him the check, but his mouth had set in a stubborn line when she explained her idea for "embedding" with the gutterpunks. In the end, he had done little more than shrug and tell her he'd be there for her, no matter what crazy idea she had. When she'd told him that he wouldn't be coming, it would ruin the authenticity of the experience, he'd just stared at her and then mumbled something that sounded like "Whatever you want."

Julie wasn't sure what had happened to the Tim who had chased her to Paris and talked her into returning to Texas. Sure, that had been three years ago, and maybe familiarity had bred some contempt. Or at least some complacency. Julie thought this separation would be the real test of their relationship. Either it would make them realize that they truly belonged together or it would make them realize that they could go their separate ways.

The original plan had been for Julie to spend a full six months with the gutterpunks, and then return to Texas to write the book. But she'd only managed four months. She consoled herself that she'd accumulated plenty of material to write the book, but the sad truth of the matter was that she preferred her creature comforts: hot showers, soft beds, and morning coffee.

So she'd decided to get an early start on the book and had fallen in love with a little town near the California-Oregon border. She'd rented a cabin near the beach and settled in to write. Although she texted Tim daily so that he'd know she was safe, she had sort of let him believe that she was still on the road with the gutterpunks. She wanted to avoid having him pressure her to return to Texas. She knew in her heart that she wasn't quite ready to go back.

Besides, she'd told herself that she'd be able to write the book in two or three months, when it would probably take three times that long with all the distractions of home. Of course, the last few days were putting lie to that. Maybe she needed distraction to make her focus, because the wide-open schedule and the solitude had only helped her write about four paragraphs, and she hated every last word.

Julie sighed and pushed her chair away from the table. She stood, stretched, and headed into the bedroom, where she changed into her running clothes. Then she set off for a long run, hoping the ocean air and blue skies would help clear her head. She ran for about an hour, then headed into the small town to pick up a coffee and some lunch.

In the coffee house, the TV was on, tuned to the noon-time news broadcast. Julie barely noticed, the announcer's voice a buzz in her ears while she studied the menu board, until a name from the past caught her attention.

"Jackson Teller, the President of the notorious Sons of Anarchy motorcycle gang, was earlier today released from the San Joaquin County Jail without charge in the killing of his wife Dr. Tara Knowles and Deputy Sheriff Eli Roosevelt."

Julie looked up and saw Jax, a few years older, with shorter hair and sadder eyes, trailing behind a slick-suited young lawyer, who paused on the steps to make a few points.

"The traffic camera footage, witness statements, and the very time of death all indicate that my client had absolutely no involvement in these tragic killings. It's unfortunate that the district attorney decided to drag her feet and grandstand for the last week instead of properly investigating and then releasing my client, whose young children should not lose both parents in this tragedy."

"But what about the plea deal on the gun charge?" shouted an enterprising reporter.

"Off the table. My client only took that deal to protect his wife, which is something the district attorney and the county utterly failed to do when they sent her home with the deputy sheriff. My client is innocent of all charges. If the district attorney thinks she can make a case on the gun charges, then she's going to have to build that case with evidence, not with a coerced confession."

The reporters surged forward, asking if Mr. Teller had any comment. The lawyer looked back at Jax, who nodded once, resigned. "I just want to get home, take care of my boys, and bury my wife. Now, please excuse me."

Jax pushed through the crowd of reporters, who at first surged forward, but then thought better of it. The look in his eye was enough to stop even the most shameless among them.

"Miss, it's your turn. What can I get you?" asked the barista. From his annoyed tone, Julie guessed that it wasn't the first time he'd asked.

"Um," Julie found that she couldn't take her eyes off Jax. She stood like an idiot, staring at the final footage of him being hustled into his lawyer's car. Then she shook her head, hard, like she could clear the fog. "I'm...I think I've changed my mind."

Julie walked back to her cabin in a daze. Tara...dead. Jax...accused, then cleared, and now alone with his boys. She hadn't even realized that he'd had another child. She remembered back to their time together, and she found her heart aching that Jax was in the situation.

Back at the cabin, Julie went on the Internet and read everything she could about Jax, Tara, and the motorcycle club. The list of murders and crimes that they were somehow suspected of was staggering. Three years ago, Julie could just about believe that the club was a bunch of motorcycle enthusiasts who supplemented their incomes in ways that were sometimes dubious, immoral, or of questionable legality. But it seems like things had taken a hard turn for the worse in the last few years.

Julie rubbed her eyes and closed her laptop. She was going to have a nap and try to resist the pull of Charming. Jax had his club, his family, and his sons. What could she possibly offer him?


	2. Chapter 2

Julie knows there's nothing she can really offer Jax. She knows that but still yellow lines on concrete lead her back to Charming. To Jax, to a part of herself she keeps hidden and shoved down. The part of her that liked Jax's inherent danger and easy smile, even as it horrified her.

She'd never really liked Tara, but that doesn't mean she deserved the ending she got. Would that have been Julie had she stayed? She shudders and turns up the soundtrack to "Nashville." A show Tim had gotten her addicted too. Despite Rayna's downright creepy resemblance to her mother.

The soft melody of "Lately" makes her miss Tim against her will. As if summoned by her thoughts her phone chirps Tim's happy tone. She lets it go to voicemail. She tells herself it's because she's driving but really she knows its because she's not ready to 'fess up to this insane need to help Jax.

So she drives, yellow lines flying as she sweeps into Lodi. She gives Sadie a passing thought last she heard her friend was married to an up-and-coming politician. She's a bona fide reformed wild child, polished up pretty.

-/-/-/-

As she stands on the periphery of the cemetery and watches the motorcade and the hearse, she's struck by the diminished size of SAMCRO. Jax leads, as always, eyes shielded from the world, but she can see so much pain, regret, and rage carved into him that she aches for him.

She inches closer to hear the words of the service fall on the wind and carry to her. He stands still as stone, barely breathing. The only emotion he shows is when he kisses a boy whom she assumes is Abel as he places a blue daisy on his mother's casket.

"What are you doing here Julie?" she turns to find Lyla.

"I tried to stay way. Really, I just couldn't."

"You're the moth, he's the flame. I know that feelin'." Julie hugs her friend. She was never quite sure how her relationship with Opie worked, but she's still sorry that her friend lost her husband. "He could make you believe anything probably, because he believed it himself. For all his faults, Ope was moral and honest."

"Who keeps Jackson straight now, Ly?"

"You're guess is as good as mine."

"No one." She answers her own question.

-/-/-/-

Julie slips away from the funeral before Jax can see her. She has no idea what to say to him and doesn't really know if he'd want her to say anything. Gemma's still alive, standing stony-faced throughout the ceremony, holding a baby boy, so it's not like Jax is all alone in the world. And he has the club. His blood family and his chosen family. Julie suspects that there's no place for her.

Julie slips back through the trees and gets into her car. She drives, barely making conscious decisions about where she's going. The main street is not too much different from when she left, although there might be a few more vacant shop fronts. A new ice cream and candy store looks somehow both inviting and frightening, but she can't quite put her finger on why.

She drives on and is shocked to find a gaping hole where the clubhouse used to be. Then, she realizes she's being silly. She read about a bomb in her frantic Internet search, but she didn't realize it had been so devastating and extensive. The mechanic shop seems untouched, but the metal gates are pulled across, and she has no idea if the business is still in operation. She can see the silver glint of an Airstream trailer, but it reminds her of Tim so she focuses attention back on the road.

She's at the streams before she realizes that she'd intended on going there. At least one thing in this world remains unchanged, tranquil and serene. She gets out of her car and picks a daisy, idly tearing off each petal. Visit him. Visit him not. Visit him. Visit him not. Visit him.

-/-/-/-

She stands on his porch and, for the fiftieth time that day, gives serious thought to just going home, but as she watches him through the gap of the drape and the window, she sees a look she knows.

It's a vacant I've-put myself-here-boxed-myself-in-now-what look that nearly breaks her heart all over again. The Jax that she knew always tried to do the right thing, after all he broke up with her. This time she wonders if that right thing is what will kill him. The baby crawls over him and smiles. Jax tries to return the smile, but tears well up in his eyes. Unable to take it any longer, she knocks.

When the doo opens, all she gets is "Pixie, never thought I'd see you again."

"Same goes, but here I am." She shifts awkwardly on her feet, waiting for him to invite her in.

"Come in, I'd heard through Lyla you were off being a steam punk? In Seattle?"

"Gutter punk. I'm writing a book."

"I'm not surprised," he says. She follows him into the room, where the baby is playing with stacking cups and Abel is crouched over the coffee table, drawing a picture.

"Hi Abel, you don't remember me, but we went to the zoo once upon a time."

The boy looks up, his eyes puffy and face solemn. "Mommy took me and Thomas to the zoo a few times. But now she's in heaven."

If small talk with Jax was awkward, this conversation was a whole new level of difficult. Julie gives the boy a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry your Mommy is gone. She still loves you very much."

Abel nods before returning his attention to his drawing. Julie looks back at Jax, finding him leaning against the wall and watching her, his face unreadable.

"I'm sorry, I don't even know why I'm here." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. But they're honest, and she can see immediately that Jax appreciates that honesty.

"I don't either, but we're always happy to see a friendly face. Have a seat, let me get you a drink."

Julie is about to decline the drink, but she figures a beer isn't going to keep her from driving and it'll definitely help this conversation. She nods and sits in chair across from the couch. The baby crawls over to her and regards her with open curiosity, waving a stacking cup at her. She reaches out and he puts the cup in her hand. She pretends to take a sip, then delicately balances the cup on his round little head. He smiles and then laughs, the sound gleeful and way too loud for this small, solemn room.

Jax returns with two Coronas. He manages to smile as he hands one to her. "That's Thomas."

Julie says hello to the child, noticing that he has Tara's eyes but that the rest of him is pure Jax. She doesn't say it out loud though. She still doesn't know what to say to him. But then she realizes that they can't really talk in front of the kids anyway. This knowledge relaxes her.

"Did you come all the way down from Seattle?" asks Jax.

"No. I'm finished with that part of my research. I've rented a cabin near the Oregon border."

"And is Tim with you?"

"No, he's in Dillon." She takes a long pull from the beer. She figures the less said about Tim, the better.

"I should've guessed. You can't even take the boy out of Texas, not really."

"He wanted to come along, but I told him I wouldn't be able to do my research. I had to become one of them, which would've been a lot more difficult with a sidekick."

"Especially one who probably wouldn't take kindly to dudes talking to his woman."

Julie shrugged. "He's not really like that. But he wouldn't have liked some of the things that I had to do. Better he not see any of that."

Jax raised an eyebrow, an invitation to elaborate.

"It wasn't anything like that. But I have hopped a few freight cars and maybe done a tiny bit of shoplifting."

The smile is genuine. "Julie Taylor, rule breaking rebel without a cause."

Her cheeks flush but she doesn't mind. They seem to be slowly slipping back into something that feels comfortable. It's not exactly how things used to be between them. And she knows that they aren't anywhere near the people that they used to be. But the teasing, the smile, it all makes her remember their time together.

She tells him stories about her adventures, stopping one memorable one mid-stream when she realizes that Abel is listening.

"Little pitchers have big ears. Or so Gemma used to say. I never knew what it meant."

"Must be a Mom-thing," says Julie. "I never understood it either, except it meant that the good conversation stopped."

"Get you a refill?" asks Jax, gesturing to her empty.

Julie stands up. "No, really, I should go. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing, but then I ended up talking about myself for an hour."

"It's exactly what I needed. Everyone is creeping around, asking me how I feel. Why ask questions when the answers are obvious. Your visit was way better than that." Jax lights a cigarette and holds the smoke for a long minute, like he's trying to steady himself.

"Well, I'm glad about that. I was actually surprised that you weren't surrounded by a ton of people."

"I sent them all home," said Jax, exhaling smoke. "But you, you can stay. We need to catch up, after the little pitchers are in bed."

Julie sits down and represses the urge to look at the clock. Bedtime must not be for hours, but if all Jax wants her to do is distract him with stories, she can do that.

**AN: We own nothing and we hope you enjoyed it! Please drop us a review if you liked it! – The Team**


	3. Chapter 3

**We own nothing. This is a Texas to Ireland co-write. It has been written in nap times, late nights, and early mornings. its so much fun but a ton of work so if you like it please do review! In the meantime? Thank you, for all of the follows and favorites and a single review! :) Enjoy!-The Team**

* * *

When Julie shows up at his door, it's like a ghost he'd buried to the bottom of his heart pops up at exactly the wrong time. He lets her in because she looks so torn between doing what she feels is right and what her southern upbringing tells her. He feels something other than unbearable sorrow for the first time weeks. He feels chagrined.

Julie has always been surprising and unexpected. She'd made him feel hopeful once. She comes in and distracts him with her adventures and plays with the boys. Once she settles down, she'll be great mother someday.

It feels odd and wrong to think of Julie at all with Tara gone, but if he puts his mind elsewhere even for a moment, the pain lifts.

They put the boys to bed and the silence hangs.

"What now?" she asks.

"More beer."

"Sure."

He brings her another Corona, and she's sitting in the floor restacking Thomas' little toys. Jax keeps stepping on them and while they aren't as bad as Abel's LEGOS, those fuckers hurt. "So, Pix what's the deal? You only run to or from something when you're either intrigued or terrified by it."

"Who says I'm running at all?" She cracks her beer, and her neat manicure catches his eye along with a paper cut on her middle finger.

He swigs his beer to fight a smirk he knows will make her angry. "You're drinkin' with me, Darlin.'"

"Convenience." She shrugs.

"Or history repeating itself."

Gone is the wide eyed girl he loved. The look he gets is a woman who's fully in control. "You can always hit the eject button."

"Nah, not yet." He smirks but they both know it's false.

She flips her beer cap like a quarter. "So what's my deal? I was in Seattle and those kids drew me in and I had to tell their stories. That's the thing Tim will never understand... stories, fictional or otherwise, I have to tell them because it fills up a part of me that Dillon doesn't touch.

"Dillon's like this bubble and when I leave it, I want nothing more than to go back into it because it's some kinda backwoods, dirt roads, always the same perfection but then after a while I feel held down by it. Not Tim- it holds his heart and everything that matters to him."

"Not everything, you're here." He replies knowingly. He lights a cigarette and inhales, The stinging in his lungs grounds him.

She stands and paces, and he remembers the girl he started falling for on his Mom's back porch. "Exactly! The wanderer in me connected to those kids and their desires and now, now I have their stories, their lives knocking around in my head with no way to get them out. I've done everything by the book. And it's not working!'

"Then stop. I write for my boys, the things I love and hate. I write the things that matter to me. Write like you're telling someone you love everything you saw. Lose the need to be perfect, Jules, and you'll find it."

She looks shocked, not that he writes, but that he had an answer for her. "You think?"

There's a wrongness and inconvenience in his sudden revelation that he's still very much attracted to her. "I know, if you put half of the passion I just saw on your face in the book, you'll be fine."

"I'm so sorry, I'm still rambling."

"Don't be, there's always so much going on in you, Julie. The joy that follows you is a nice change, I ain't felt the kinda hope you have in ages. You're confused as shit, but you got hope."

She collapses on the couch peering down, at him on the floor. "Where'd your hope go, Jax? Thought you were gonna change things?"

"So did I. Sometimes, I think the hope died the second my old man's bike hit the concrete of the highway." He stacks one of the stupid cups to distract himself.

"Other times?" she pushes.

He shrugs. "Other times the hope was Tara's. It wasn't ever mine. I never thought there was anything wrong with who I was til she pointed out there's something broken in all this. She was right, always was."

He looks up at Julie. "Used to piss me the fuck off too. She saw through it all, this isn't brotherhood, its bloodshed and waste and hatred and hell if I know how to fix it. Sometimes I wanna take my boys and run." He confesses his deepest held secret to the grain of the wooden coffee rather than Julie's face.

"Do it."

He'd been afraid she'd say that.

"Can't. Tara wanted to and I just, outta loyalty to my Dad, I had to fix the club and it killed her. I gotta make that loss mean something, Ope's too. It's gotta matter, if it's pointless it'll eat me alive." He sniffs back sudden and unbidden tears. He hates this grief. It cripples him.

"And burn away everything you love." Julie adds prophetically.

He nods in agreement "Bout the size of it, Darlin.'"

They talk well into the night and get sloppy drunk and fall asleep on the couch and love seat.

He wakes to the smell of pancakes and scrambled eggs and the sound of Don Williams' "Lord I Hope This Day Is Good."

He wanders into the kitchen and for the first time, it's not the place he found Tara. It's the place Julie's teaching Abel to two-step to a song he's pretty damn sure Tim put on Julie's IPod. There's no blood on the floor, instead it's Julie's purple-painted toes and bare feet dancing across the linoleum. For the first time in weeks, he hears Abel's beautiful high-pitched giggle. The crippling grief lifts for a moment, just for a single breath.

He leans on a kitchen chair and kisses Thomas. "The eggs are burning, Pix."

"Shit!"

He kisses the top of Abel's bubble-gum-and-little-boy-sweat scented head. "Little pitchers, Darlin. Mornin', Monster Boy."

"I'm dancin.'"

"I see that. Julie spins real good, make her do it." Jax grins at the dirty look she shoots him.


	4. Chapter 4

Jax wasn't sure where the morning and afternoon went. After breakfast, he and Julie had taken the boys for a walk to the park. Then they'd gone home and played a rousing game of hide-and-seek, even though letting Abel out of his sight for even ten seconds mafe Jax twitchy. Before he knew it, was lunchtime and then time for Thomas to have a nap.

Abel insisted on having a nap too, in Thomas's room, even though the boy hadn't napped in at least a year. He recognized a fight not worth having and put his hands up in silent surrender while Julie helped Abel drag his mattress into his brother's room.

"I don't know what that was," said Jax, settling on the couch next to Julie.

"It seems like he wants to protect his brother. A good instinct. Apple, tree, and all of that."

Jax lit a cigarette and sighed out the smoke. "I don't know how good a job I've ever done protecting anyone."

Julie bit her lip, like she was trying to keep herself from asking a question.

"C'mon, out with it, Pix. You know you can ask whatever you need to ask."

"I've just been wondering. How did things go so...wrong?"

Jax looked up at the ceiling as he exhaled, as though the answer would be written in the smoke. "Darlin', I wish I knew. I've been asking myself that for months. Maybe even a couple of years. Seems like every time I get in position to change things, something else hits us, blindside, and we're just struggling to survive."

"But you've survived and now you can finally set things right?"

His laugh was short and not quite as bitter as he'd expected. "Yeah. Now everything is going to be peaches and cream."

Julie ducked her head, her hair curtaining her face.

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that," said Jax, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. She looked up at him and met his eyes, a moment suddenly stretching between them.

The front door swung open and Julie instinctively jerked away, sliding down the couch.

"Whose piece of shit is parked in your driveway, Jax?" asked Gemma as she barged into the room. She stopped suddenly to assess the situation, her smile freezing until it slid into an unpleasant, cynical look.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were entertaining company."

"I was actually just leaving," said Julie, jumping up and picking up her purse.

"You don't have to go," Jax said to her, before directing his next comment to his mother, "although you probably should, Ma."

"No, that book's not going to write itself. Was good to catch up with you."

Jax stood up and hugged her, quick and fierce, but long enough to whisper in her ear. "The streams. Meet you there in an hour."

"Goodbye, Jax, goodbye Gemma," said Julie as she fumbled her way out the front door.

"Goodbye, Pixie," said Gemma, making the last word sound somewhat mocking.

"Really?" said Jax. "Was that really necessary?"

"Your wife's body is barely cold and you're already inviting the past in to cozy up with you? Jackson, that girl is a bad idea in so many different ways, I can't even begin to count."

"Tell me something, Mom, how long was it after Dad died before you took up with Clay. Oh wait, nevermind, that was going on before Dad died, so I guess that makes it okay."

Gemma's eyes flashed, but she sat down and sighed. "Grief makes you mean, Jax. It made your father weak, but it makes you mean. That's fine, I can live with that. But I'm just trying to look out for you here."

Jax rolled his eyes, but sank down on the couch. It would only take him 15 minutes to get to the streams and it was important that Gemma not think he was rushing out to meet up with Julie. Although with her suspicious mind, she'd probably suspect it all the same.

"Where's Unser? You two are joined at the hip these days."

Gemma lit a cigarette. "Hospital. He's got some kind of tests that are going to take most of the day. Thought I'd come over here, help out. Didn't know you'd already found some help."

Jax shook his head, let the dig pass by unremarked. He looked at Gemma to let her know he was serious. "Hope everything's okay with him."

Gemma shrugged one shoulder and Jax could see that they'd finally found something that they could agree on: these days, it felt like nothing would or could ever be okay again.

-/-

Julie stopped at a coffee shop for a latte and a brownie. She also picked up a few newspapers, then

headed for the streams, taking her time. Even so, she arrived more than a half hour early. She picked a place to park her car that gave her access to a shaded place to sit, a long view of the approach road, and a speedy escape. Her time spent in war zones for the newspaper and shady back alleys for her gutterpunk book had given her some new skills.

She sat down on a log and kicked off her shoes, letting her feet sink into the cool, tickly grass. She savored her first sip of latte and then glanced at the papers. The headline QUESTIONS STILL HANG OVER MC GANG LEADER was printed over a picture of Jax leaving court and LOTS OF PRESSURE, FEW LEADS accompanied a picture of a harried looking African-American woman whom Julie recognized as the district attorney.

Julie didn't think she could handle the papers right now, and she knew it had been a few days since she'd last spoken to Tim. She picked up her phone and called him, partly hoping that the call would go to voicemail. She felt an odd flutter in her stomach and rolled her eyes. She had nothing to explain or feel guilty about. She blamed her parents for instilling too good of a conscience in her.

Tim picked up on the seventh ring, then dropped the phone while he turned down the volume on a racous country tune about house rules. Julie knew he was in his pickup. Her mind immediately put him on the road to the dunes, even though she knew he was just as likely to be headed to Home Depot.

"Jules, how's life on the streets?" he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, could picture the warmth in his eyes.

"Cold and damp," she replied, wincing only slightly at the lie. She didn't need any pressure from him about coming home. She did her best work when she was away from him, and this book needed to be her best work.

"You're not going to recognize the house when you get home. Our room is completely finished, now I'm starting on the second room, it would make a great-"

"I can't talk long, I just wanted to let you know that I was okay." She couldn't let him finish that sentence. He might have said office, but he just as easily could have said nursery. She didn't understand how the high school boy who lived in fear of a double-pink line on a pregnancy test had grown into a man who was just itching to paint a nursery and whisper to a bump. She wasn't ready to settle down like that, not yet, not even close.

"Oh, right, I understand. Thanks for letting me know. Any idea on when you might be home."

"Couple months, maybe longer. I still need to get a few more things done."

"I miss you."

"Me too." She knew it wasn't a lie, but she wasn't sure it was still the truth.

"Alright, we'll talk soon. Love you, stay safe."

"You too."

Julie disconnected the call and dropped the phone into her bag. She picked up the brownie and the newspaper. She smelled a story here in Charming, and she didn't know if it was just an easy distraction from the book or if it was more than that, but she wanted to know what had happened. And she realized that she especially wanted to know what happened next.

Some time later his bike roared up, breaking the silently peaceful moment. He walked toward her, squinting into the sun.

"Finally escape your Mama's clutches?"

"Just barely. Grief makes her extra clingy." He sat down beside her and plucked the newspaper out of her hands. She tried to grab it back, but he easily held it just out of reach while he read the headlines.

"Sorry," said Julie sheepishly.

"Unless you wrote it, you got nothin' to be sorry for." He dropped the paper onto the log and rested his elbows on his knees.

Julie felt like she was walking on a tightrope, but she couldn't help herself. She was a reporter, and she knew a hot story when she saw it.

"So is this reporter at all right when he rounds up the possible suspects?"

Jax glanced back at the paper and was silent while he scanned the sidebar. "Bizlats are unlikely. Mayans are possible. I definitely didn't do it, and I can't really think of any... current club member who would've done it."

The brief pause before the word "current" made Julie's pulse race. She looked sideways at Jax, then looked away while she casually asked. "Is there a former club member that you suspect?"

Jax smiled. "I see why you're good at this writing and reporting thing, Pixie."

She felt the heat of a blush warm her cheeks. "Sorry, occupational hazard. I can't seem to turn it off."

"Don't apologize. I'd hire you to get the full story, if I could."

"You don't have to hire me. I'd like to help you find out what happened. It could help you..." she paused, struggling to find a phrase that wasn't horribly cliched.

"Find closure?" asked Jax with a bitter twist to the words.

"No. I don't think there's ever any closure for a wound this deep and raw."

"Aren't you afraid that I'll just learn whatever you find out to get revenge on the murderer?"

Julie felt her heart catch in her throat, fluttering like panicked bird trapped in a cage. She hadn't considered that as a possibility. She forced her fear to quiet, then looked at Jax. "I think you've had enough experience with revenge to know that it won't bring Tara back and it won't help you be a good father to your boys."

"I hope you're right."

"My track record isn't quite as good as my mother's, but I'm right a fair bit of the time. So, if you really want me to look into this, I can. I should probably move down here, spend some time just hanging out so that people get used to me before I start asking a bunch of questions."

"What about the cabin?"

She shrugged. "It's just a weekly rental. I'll find a place down here. Probably wouldn't look real good if I stayed at your place."

"You could move into Tim's old place."

"No thanks, that would be too weird. I saw a few ads in the newspaper for small apartments above the shops on Main street. One of those would do fine. So, when I'm ready to start talking to people, who should I start with?"

"Damned if I know. Roosevelt is dead – he was probably the last person who saw her alive. One of the neighbors told me that there was an old pick up truck parked in the drive way. Unser has an old truck."

"Okay, I can start with Unser."

"Just be careful, Julie. He's spending a lot of time with my mother. I don't want her to know you're asking questions about Tara."

Julie frowned. "Your mom still isn't my biggest fan?"

"She doesn't trust you. Who knows what kind of crazy conclusion she'll jump to if she thinks you're asking questions and maybe looking for the truth."

"And here I thought it was because she's afraid of what I represent for you."

"And that is?"

"A road not taken."

"Among other things," he replied, and brushed her hair back behind her ear. She held out her hand, and he took it. They sat in the quiet, with their history hanging comfortably between them.

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